


carry no banners that don't spell freedom

by orphan_account



Series: tomorrow they'll see what we are [4]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Panic, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 03:31:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11774598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Racetrack Higgins is the funny one, the witty one, he doesn't worry or panic.(Race is scared.)





	carry no banners that don't spell freedom

Even before they win ( _officially, that is, win officially, they have to have won officially to be able to say they won so really it's 'even before Pulitzer addresses everyone gathered in Newsies Square', though in all reality they win the night before as they race the streets with freshly-printed flyers in their hands_ ), Race knows things aren't okay. They aren't okay from before the strike starts, and they don't somehow become okay when it ends.

Out of all the Manhattan newsies, he's probably the closest to Jack Kelly ( _besides Crutchie, but Crutchie is a whole other level of close when it comes to Jack because the two of them are practically inseparable and there ain't a name for what they are to each other but it seems like it means a world and then some_ ), so he knows — knows for sure, knows like he knows how to count change and gauge the speed of horses on a racetrack — that Jack's not okay. That he hasn't been okay for— well, probably for years, at this point ( _which begs the question if he's ever been okay in the time Race has known him_ ), and that the strike only made things worse. Not just the strike, though — being chased by Snyder ( _and Race was running too, they both were, they both knew what awaited them if they slowed down for even a moment and neither of them wanted to even barely risk it because going back to that place was too dark to handle_ ), Crutchie being taken away to the Refuge ( _Jack blames himself, Race is sure of it — he blames himself too, because if either of them had just stayed a little longer and been a little braver—_ ), and whatever Pulitzer said that forced him to speak against the strike at their rally ( _it must have been bad, because Race knows Jack and he knows that Jack doesn't change his mind that easily, that it must have taken something really frightening to turn him against everything they'd fought to build up_ ). 

All of it together seems to have come together to make for a series of very bad days for Jack Kelly, and Race is _worried_.

He's loathe to leave Pulitzer's basement ( _and wow, he never expected to hear himself saying or even thinking something like that, what a week this has been_ ), because leaving to distribute the Newsies Banner means leaving Jack alone with folks who don't know, who don't get it— well, to be fair, Jack doesn't know he gets it, but that's just because he's Race. Nobody expects Race to get it — he's the _funny_ one, the _witty_ one, the one with a smile and a cigar and a snappy line to deliver in the face of bad news. Race isn't the guy who worries, who looks out for his friends ( _brothers, they're basically brothers, nobody seems to say it but Race would count them as his family any day_ ), who works himself into a panic as he runs down the street with papes in his hands because he's leaving Jack _alone_ and he doesn't know what Jack might do when he's like this.

Jack doesn't need to know how _scared_ Race is.

Because he is scared, and watches and looks and makes sure that nobody leaves Jack truly alone as the night wears on and none of them manage to sleep ( _how long has it been since he's slept? too long, probably, but Race runs on manic energy and nothing else so he can keep going as long as there's something driving him_ ). Davey stays in the basement and then accompanies Jack to see Pulitzer in the morning, Race keeps him company overnight, and gives him a nudge in Crutchie's direction when they start selling again the next morning. Crutchie ( _just released, looks terrible but perhaps only Race can see because he's been there, he's been the one returning and he's seen Jack after escaping more times than he can count — Race knows the shadows and scars of the Refuge like he knows the taste of a good cigar from a crappy one_ ) can take care of Jack, Crutchie knows what to watch for and how to speak just right. Race doesn't — words aren't his thing, he's no good at picking and choosing the right ones, and more often than not the stuff he says just gets him in trouble.

So he leaves Crutchie to take care of Jack for the day, and heads for his usual spot because he needs somewhere to go, to escape the thoughts and the worries and the everything. If he runs just a little faster to get there ( _to get away_ ), well, that's his business and no-one else's. Spot catches up with him when he's almost reached Sheepshead, and they talk briefly before they sell— this, Race can do. This is normal, this is safe, this is ( _how did Spot not notice his black eye and bruises last night? how did the rest of the city's newsies not see what they'd done, what had happened when they'd left Manhattan to the dogs but it wasn't like he could blame them, he would've done the same, it's everyone for their own skin as much as it's everyone for each other — one for all and all for one_ ). He sells his papes and chats with his regulars and tosses out bet suggestions like always, and it feels like if he tries to grin any wider his face will crack in half and fall to pieces.

He wishes, in the small part of his mind dedicated to what he really thinks and feels instead of 'Racetrack Higgins', that everything could just go back to normal. In the rest of his mind, he knows that it won't ever be their old normal again — he'll have to build a new one, and he doesn't know if he can. Not alone, not like this ( _where's Jack when you need him, he can't rely on Jack right now because Jack's just as cracked apart but Race needs him_ ).

Somewhere in the span of the day, amidst loud voices and too-jovial chatter, his last pape sells and he books it for Manhattan ( _for home_ ), forgetting to say goodbye to Spot on his way out. Spot won't mind, nothing really seems to phase him, or if it does he doesn't tell Race ( _nobody really tells Race, but he looks and listens and notices things_ ). He needs a meal ( _when did they last eat? he's not sure_ ), he needs to sleep ( _not sure about that either_ ), he needs to make sure Jack's okay ( _that everyone's okay but he's worried_ ). He's forgotten, since it's been a while, that he didn't just earn his street name for his gambling. That there are more sides to 'Racetrack' than the obvious.

The Lodging House is fine, all the boys are fine, and Race almost allows himself to breathe easily for a time. The meal is good, and sends a wave of energy that for once isn't running on fumes and desperation through his body, and he's almost ready to relax and play a game of cards and sleep early, but—

But Jack isn't there. 

"Jack?" Crutchie, who had been selling with him today, shrugs thoughtfully. "Think he wanted to go for a walk. Ain't sure where."

He doesn't seem worried, and Race wouldn't be worried because Jack knows the city inside and out, but in that small part of his mind he _panics_. Jack is alone. Jack is out there and alone and in a bad place ( _Race knows Jack's bad places all too well now, can spot them a mile away_ ), and when he's alone and in a bad place—

Nobody asks where he's going as he attempts to leave the Lodging House as casually as possible ( _he wants to run, but Racetrack Higgens doesn't run and doesn't panic, he laughs and waves and chews his cigar like he doesn't have a care in the world beyond his bets and his papes_ ) — he often goes out at night to meet Spot or the Brooklyn boys for a game or whatever they come up with that day, so they probably just assume that's where he's going now. Not that they know he meets Spot, of course, just that he goes out and usually to the same place.

For what feels like an hour, at least, he runs— runs down every block and alley of Manhattan, looks inside storefronts and up fire escapes, searching for some sign of his leader ( _friend_ ) ( _brother_ ). Either Jack is in another borough entirely, or he's just especially good at staying five steps ahead of Race. So when he exhausts his search in his borough ( _he should check twice, he should check three times, but what if Jack's already left—_ ), he runs to the edges to find someone in each of the bordering areas, asks them to keep an eye out for Jack Kelly and to tell him to come home if they see him.

He saves Spot for last, because he knows Spot usually stays out late and because Brooklyn is the borough he'd feel safest in if caught there after dark ( _and isn't that strange_ ), and almost slows to a walk as he crosses the Brooklyn Bridge. Almost. Almost, because he looks at the railing of the bridge and at the water below and his thoughts, wild and reaching and creeping, take a turn for the worse. ( _That bridge would be an awfully good spot for—_ )

He breaks into a run faster than he's gone tonight, hoping he'll be able to find Spot and tell him ( _ask him, beg him for help_ ) what he desperately hopes isn't happening. ( _Jack sometimes looks like he's gonna try to fly, but now Race is afraid he might decide to try swimming instead_ ).

( _Please, God, let that not be the case. Let him just be overthinking it again. Let everything be fine and normal and this be nothing more than Racetrack Higgins running his mouth and his mind again._ )

( _He isn't ready for a Manhattan without Jack Kelly yet._ )

**Author's Note:**

> Race's is done!
> 
> I wanted his to be really in-his-head, because somehow part of how I imagine Race is that behind his 'outside face', so to speak, he spends a lot of time in his head and in his thoughts.
> 
> Not sure how well this one came out — I feel like my voice is disintegrating, a bit >_<
> 
> Next: either the Jacobs' or Katherine! (or both at once? I haven't decided yet — would you prefer separate chapters for them, or together?)
> 
> Like always, comments are an absolute gift and I love them! <3


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